Saturday, September 17, 2016

Consort of the Witch (7.16.16)

He leaves kisses like embers
On paper pale skin.

He worships this universe,
And it caresses away his pain.

Under the silver moon there is clarity.
In his body, in his mind.

The tempest heart is stilled.

The liminal space between their
Intertwined fingers

Is where adoration
And Affliction meet.

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